


Old and Newly Familiar

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [201]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Begging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Repression, Multi, Spanking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 13:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16893165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: “Are you sure?” Steve said for the hundredth time.





	Old and Newly Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Spanking and The light was on, but it was dim.

“Are you sure?” Steve said for the hundredth time.

“Steve,” Tony said, strangled, his voice half-mashed into the covers, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m hard enough to cut diamonds already and you haven’t given me so much as a swat. You big fucking tease.”

There was laughter from the shadows beyond the bed, the creak of someone shifting in a chair. “Yeah, what do you want, Stevie? A handwritten invite? I’d say you’ve got as good of one right there in your lap.”

Steve swept his fingers over the curve of Tony’s ass, petting at the soft skin, kneading as if Steve were sculpting him, molding Tony’s body to just the right lines. “Don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured. “That’s all.”

“You won’t,” Bucky said.  “Not with me as a referee. I promise.”

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t trust himself, didn’t have a proper set of controls on his body; he was keenly aware of his own strength and what he could do with it in the right circumstance. But sex was something else, period; sometimes he lost himself, wandered so far into his own pleasure or that or his partner that he forgot to hold onto his own reins. And sex with two people, god, it drove his good sense even farther out of his grasp. He’d forgotten that.

The first time the three of them had tumbled into bed, though, Tony gleeful, Bucky snarly in the best kind of way, it’d all come back in a mad Technicolor rush: how it’d been years ago, when Peggy was the one strung between them, the one whose body Steve held and nuzzled and kissed while Bucky fucked into her rough and wet. He’d been afraid then; he could see that now. Afraid of his feelings as much as what was then a new physical strength. He’d adored them both, needed them with his body and soul, but even when he was with them in the most private of places, he’d never been able to let himself feel it. Not all the way.

And when it’d all gone to hell and he’d been facing the unforgiving sea, he told himself it would have hurt a lot worse, dying, if he’d known what it felt like to be in love.

So now, eighty years later, he’d found himself equally pinned, caught between what he actually felt versus what he would actually allow in his heart.

He was afraid. That’s what it boiled down to. Afraid to really give in to it, all of it. Afraid to let himself go.

He hadn’t said any of that earlier in the evening, when watching a movie had quickly devolving to Tony straddling him and making little breathy noises as they kissed, hotter ones once Bucky had reached over and freed Tony’s cock.

“Are you gonna come?” Bucky had whispered in a voice that made them both shake. “You gonna lose it all over Steve, all over your nice clean couch?”

“Our couch,” Tony had said, arching into Steve’s hand. “You live here, too, asshole."

Which was when Bucky had smacked him--a sharp, quick slap on the ass--and drawn out the most delicious, desperate sound that Steve had ever heard Tony make.

“Oh,” Bucky’d said, dangerous. “It’s like that, huh?”

Tony whined, his nails digging hard in Steve’s shoulders.

“Come on, Stevie. Give him a whack.” Bucky plucked at Steve’s hand and curled it around the turn over Tony’s ass. “He’s dying for it, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony groaned, his body like a live wire. “Fuck yes, spank me. Please.”

“I can’t,” Steve had said, a squeeze of fear in his throat even. “I can’t do that. I’ll hurt you. I’ll hurt him, Buck.”

Bucky had wound his hand in Steve’s hair, tugged his head back far enough so Bucky could look him in the eye. “You won’t,” Bucky had said, quiet now, his eyes heavy and certain. “Don’t worry, honey. I won’t let you.”

Then a blur of motion, the drag of a Tony rendered almost to jelly, and they’d crashed into the bedroom and on to the bed, Tony naked and both of them not and Tony still desperate for it; all the more so, Steve figured, for having to wait.

He looked down at Tony’s dark head, a shock against the cream of the sheets; looked into the darkness beyond the lamplight to see Bucky’s eyes glowing back.

“Come into the light, Bucky,” he said. “I need to see you.”

A hum, old and newly familiar, and then Bucky was there, grinning at him, less than a foot away.

“See?” Bucky said, congenial, like Steve didn’t have a horny billionaire sprawled over his lap. “I’m right here, Stevie. You’re fine.”

“Well,” Tony spluttered, his hot face rising from the sheets, “you two might be, but I’m still dying here. Is this some cheap but incredibly effective ploy to get me to beg? Because it’s working.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, not a suggestion, a command, and Steve took a deep breath and hung himself in Bucky’s gaze-- _Trust me_ , it said--and brought his palm down with a fierce, echoing crack.

Tony swore, the word sliding into a cry.

“Good,” Bucky said, his eyes still on Steve’s face. “Do it again.”

It was a little easier the second time, easier still the third, and by the fifth, Tony’s face was buried in the coverlet, his whole body flushing scarlet, his cock an eager brand against the meat of Steve’s thigh. The air was thick with the sounds of his arousal, the rush of Bucky’s breath, the pounding of Steve’s own heart, and it seemed to Steve that the rest of the world had fallen away, that there was nothing more that mattered than the circle they formed, the living circuit, three elements joined in the flesh: Tony’s skin under his hands, Bucky’s fingers gripping Steve’s knee, Tony’s hand thrust out and clutching at Bucky’s metal one, tight.

“Don’t stop,” Tony gasped. “God, Steve, please don’t--”

This time, he didn’t need to be told, didn’t need Bucky’s permission, and fuck, it felt good, the fire in Tony’s skin, the sudden greedy swell of his own dick trapped beneath denim.

“ _Shit_ ,” Tony cried, and Steve could see the plates in Bucky’s arm whirring, adjusting to the sudden clutch of Tony’s grip. “Oh my god. Oh my god."

Bucky rumbled and Steve looked up, saw that the smirk of the evening had slipped, replaced with something deeper and sweet. “Yeah?” he said softly. “You like that, Buck?”

Their eyes met. “Yes.”

Another slap, this one on the opposite cheek, a catch of emotion in his throat that he couldn’t quite swallow, didn’t want to ignore. “Bucky, I--”

But the words wouldn’t come, not quite, and Buck reached out for him, cupped Steve’s jaw in his hand. “It’s ok,” Bucky said softly. “I’m here. We are. It’s ok if you let yourself go. Tony wants you to. And so do I. We’ve got you, don’t we, Tony?”

The hesitation was paper thin now, but Steve’s mind made one last, futile grasp. “I can’t. I’ll hurt you. One of you. Both.”

Tony reached back and grabbed at Steve’s shirt, clutched at it hard. “God, you’re impossible,” he panted. “We love you, you great big repressed popsicle. And we know you love us--don’t need a fucking Hallmark card to see that. Now turn off that worrywart brain of yours, baby, and make me come already. Fuck.”

There was a white wave, a black one, and then Steve was rising, an anchor yanked up by its chain. His hand was flying and his mouth was moving and he wanted so badly, he wanted so goddamn much. There were tears in his eyes, maybe, pinpricks that made his cheeks wet, but they were the good kind of tears, the ones of relief, the ones that tasted of surrender, of pleasure, not grief.

And when Tony came with a scream that shook the windows and a burst of sticky, thick heat, Steve realized that something in him was broken, too: the dam that had held it all back, that had kept him safe from feeling too much, from fully loving these men, from joy.

“I love you,” he whispered into the air, against Bucky’s mouth, against Tony’s. “I love you both so much that it hurts.”

“Like I said,” Tony sighed in his ear, “we know.”

Bucky thumbed at Steve’s fly, rubbed at the long line of heat, smiled when Steve choked on a gasp. “Yeah,” he said, “but still, Stevie. It’s so good to hear you say it.”


End file.
